What Was Once Lost
by Bobbie23
Summary: The battle is done and you lost. Everyone is in shock and has barely begun to comprehend the loss. Family, friends. You've all lost someone and feel guilty for surviving the massacre. You lost him once too, now he's back. Rated M.


What Was Once Lost

The battle is done and you lost. Everyone is in shock and has barely begun to comprehend the loss.

Family, friends. You've all lost someone and feel guilty for surviving the massacre.

It's been less than forty-eight hours since Wakanda, and you've somehow managed to coral who's left of the team back to the small property Fury secured for you in Scotland. There you were met by Pepper and Happy. You don't question how they knew where to find you, but you accept their presence because they don't want put up with Ross's crap any more than you do.

Now all of you sit around in virtual silence as glasses of whisky sit untouched on the coffee table after a wordless toast to their loved ones. No one refused the alcohol when Happy pulled a bottle out of somewhere; even Bruce, usually a teetotaller, accepted a small one to take the edge off of his shock.

Your knees are drawn up to your chest as you sit in an armchair in the corner of the living quarters. In your ear, Clint's voice over the phone sounds empty as he absorbs the news of Wanda's fate; you refused to let anyone else tell him. You make him a hollow promise to visit soon, if only to appease him. After all, none of you know how this will pan out, or if you'll ever get the chance to fulfil your assurance but he seems satisfied enough. You don't envy him the job of passing the news onto Laura or the kids.

He hangs up a few moments later and you're left listening to the dial tone for a long minute before lowering the phone to your lap. You're numb from seeing the people crumbling into ashes scattering in the wind. You desperately want to feel something, anything.

You still do not know how many are dead yet. Officials haven't managed to compile out exact numbers but if the rumours about the gauntlets' power was true, half the universe has been wiped out of existence.

Aside from Clint, Pepper and Happy, no one else has contacted you. There is no way to tell if Fury's silence is because he is laying low, or because he has also crumbled into nothing. Maria too.

You feel Bruce's gaze land on you from across the room. His eyes have been on you since he came back. You know this because you haven't been able to stop yourself from stealing regular glances to make sure he's still there in the flesh. He's slotted himself back into your life so quickly, it's as if he's never been gone.

" _Bruce."_

" _Nat."_

Two words, uttered heavily with strain and uncertainty. It wasn't at all like any reunion you had envisioned. Not nearly as satisfying either; you're not so dramatic to figure out whether you'd kiss or hit him if you had the chance to do it again. Any kind of reunion would've been awkward, but it was harder still when everyone was staring at you, each and every one of them acutely aware of the way the Hulk abruptly vanished without you for three years, and of the way you pined for him.

Sam vocalizing how it awkward it all was did not help.

Long story short, Bruce had been trapped inside the Big Guy almost permanently since Sokovia on an alien planet. There hadn't been time for details, Bruce didn't have many more than the basics himself. Just that he was back to help, and that was more than enough for now.

You had half the universe to save at the time.

You raise your eyes to his and he looks a little sheepish at being caught, yet he doesn't look away. His deep brown eyes full of compassion give you a once over, trying to see beyond your limp expression. He's always been able to read you, right from the get go. It unnerved you back then, now it burns you from the inside out.

The moment is broken by Steve who, stricken by grief and heartbreak, pushes out of his chair and marches down the hall to his room to mourn in private. It breaks Pepper as she starts sobbing before running in the same direction. Happy follows her, leaving you and Bruce to figure out whether or not to give Steve space.

"They need time," you say before Bruce can. He doesn't look happy about it, _you're_ not happy about it. Yet you know whatever comforting words you offer in this moment will be rebuked; there's nothing any one can say at a time like this. After a moment he accepts this with a nod and you're surrounded by silence once more.

Your eyes don't leave him, taking in his rumpled, dust covered suit. You sigh quietly. "I have some of your things here," you tell him and he blinks at you in surprise.

"Things?"

"Your go bag, some of your research," you state. "Not all of it, just the stuff Stark knew you wouldn't want Ross to get hold of."

After Sokovia, you found one of his go bags in the Tower and made sure it was stowed on the new Quinjet before every mission, even though you knew the chance of him resurfacing was a long shot. Even after you went on the run, you kept it close along with the research you liberated from the mainframe at the Avenger's facility before you fled Ross's men. You deliberately leave out the part where you damn near demanded to keep hold of it. Stark, who found you downloading Bruce's files on to a USB drive, hadn't fought you as he knew how his friend would feel if Ross got hold of his research on the Hulk. The man had merely reminded you to leave some of the more mundane research behind for Ross to find, so he would not get suspicious and start hunting for the important work. Stopping to get it, and nearly making that mistake, was a distraction a rookie agent would've known better than to make, yet you'd overlooked in your sentimentality. If Bruce never came back, you'd have a keepsake. If he did, he would have to face you to get his research or his clothes back. Either way, you'll hash it out over the T-shirt you swiped to sleep in three years ago.

"Thank you," comes Bruce's earnest appreciation.

"It's in my room," you tell him and stand unceremoniously, leading the way.

His footsteps follow yours as you reach your room. You feel a tingling in your stomach with each step, tension coiling as that numbness starts to give way to something only he is able to incite in you. Pausing to swipe your hand over the reader to gain entry, his chest stopping so close to your back you feel the heat radiating off of him.

The door opens with a swoosh, and you cross the threshold with him at your heels. You're already turning as it closes, your hand desperately gripping the front of his shirt to pull him down to you as his own hands take hold of your waist. His lips are ducking to meet yours as you claim his mouth with little finesse. He steps forward, walking you backward till you're pressed against the wall, your mouths soundly connected as your free hand snakes its way to cup his head to keep him exactly where you want him. Your other hand is still clutches the front of his button up.

You barely register the door clicking shut to give you some privacy as Bruce takes control of the urgent kiss. His mouth thoroughly explores yours, making you feel light headed. You moan into his mouth when his hands tighten their hold on you, almost anticipating your move by steadying you while you brace your shoulders against the wall and lift your legs to wrap around his waist. Adjusting to the new angle, his kisses are just as addictive.

The sensation of him against you breaks through the numbness you had been feeling. Bruce continues to kiss you as he wrenches you away from the wall and your arms wrap around his neck to give you more support as he blindly carries you the short distance to your bed. Your body tilts as he places you on the comforter just short of the centre. He levers himself over you, a bracing hand depresses the mattress to the side of your head so he doesn't crush you. He breaks away from your mouth to lave kisses along your jaw to just below your ear.

"Missed you," his voice rumbles against your skin and you moan his words back at him.

Needing more, your back arcs up. You feel him smile against your skin as his free hand strokes your waist through your shirt before slipping under your shirt.

A sudden wave of guilt hits you for enjoying this, others have lost so many loved ones today and you've got yours back. Briefly you wonder if you should stop this now, whether this is the right time or even for the right reasons, but you don't care. Grief pushes people to make reckless decisions, and you're afraid and refuse to label this as such.

You want this. Him.

There will be time to feel guilty for enjoying this moment while everyone else is inconsolable later. You know your closest friends won't hold it against you; if anything, Steve will be pissed if you deny or delay yourself or Bruce this chance.

You need to feel something and Bruce never fails to stir that in you. You don't feel vulnerable under his gaze or touch, you feel empowered to give in to the sensation because he truly cares for you.

You may not get another chance; a lot of factors will decide your fate, and Thanos isn't even at the top of that long list.

As if hearing your thoughts, his lips leave your neck and he lifts his head to meet your eyes. Your chest rises and falls with your deep breaths as you're once more caught in his dark pools which, despite everything he's been through, never lose his innate warmth that is uniquely his. You feel it spreading through you as neither of you say a word, caught in this moment. A finger from the hand beside your head tentatively strokes the edge of your cheek bone. His eyes study you, as if trying to memorize you in this position. Like he may never get another chance to have you like this. He may not.

Unwilling to let this pause continue, for fear of stalling this indefinitely you lift your head, brush your nose against his as he sighs and his eyes drift closed. "Nat."

"Bruce," you soothe him and nudge his nose once more before placing your lips on his softly, more controlled this time. He sinks into you as you draw out the kiss, allowing yourself to take note of his noises unlike during your frantic first kiss two years ago.

Your fingers find his shirt buttons, deftly releasing them and pulling the garment from his trousers. Your hands slide up his bare chest, pushing it and his jacket from his shoulders. Bruce holds himself up on his legs as he shrugs both off and they land on the floor. His hands are back on you in an instant, sliding under the hem of your shirt as your back comes off the bed so he can divest you of it. It joins his clothes on the floor.

His mouth is on your skin, peppering kisses over your clavicle and shoulders, your neck and jaw, while his hands caress you, warming and exploring your body. Your leg bends and your foot rests on the bed for leverage as you push back on the bed, urging Bruce to follow. He crawls over you as you hum from the attention he's paying you. His index finger toys with the strap of your sports bra before his lips brush the edge and he's prying it from your body. His mouth skims the newly exposed skin, trailing down to take a nipple between his lips as he teases the other with his fingers.

You press yourself into his as your hand reaches for the belt of his trousers while he does the same to yours. His mouth and hands move over every inch of newly exposed skin as he near on worships you as he finishes undressing you. The rest of your clothes hit the floor as his hand brushes your inner thigh, teasing you with confidence as you shift to cradle him between your legs. He pauses, his head hanging down as he takes a few steadying breaths. Your eyes take in the tension of his shoulders, muscles straining and your hand grasps his chin, lifting it to look into his eyes. He can say so much without words. He's still afraid despite the Hulk's recent reluctance to transform. Not unfounded, but you're confident in him and you hope the Big Guy likes you enough not to interrupt now. A flicker of indecision crosses his expression and you palm his cheek, your thumb brushing the bone just under his eye. He leans into your touch to calm himself, his lips ghosting over the pad of your thumb, his adam's apple bobbing as he regains composure.

You guide him down to you and your lips brush his as he enters you making you gasp as you both adjust. You never got a chance to do this before and he feels new and familiar all at once. He pauses for a long moment before he starts to move, finding a rhythm in between mingled moans as you match his movements. Your pace steadily builds, you lost track of time a while ago, and you let your hands wander over his back, urging him on. Your hips buck with him and your mouth finds his over and over again.

You feel your climax build as his finger expertly traces your bud of nerves. You groan as you meet his thrusts urgently and you feel him tense. His finger applies a tad more pressure as he finds just the right spot, angling to hit it repeatedly to send you over the edge. Your muscles contract around him and bring him with you.

Sated, Bruce rests lightly on you for a moment, ever so careful not to crush you, and you welcome his weight. It's not for long as he lifts off of you to settle at your side. You curl toward him, his hand cupping your neck as he looks at you longingly and breathes, "Nat."

"Bruce."

You offer him your real smile which is tinged with sadness. You both needed this after being denied for so long; though relieved it by no means fixes the three years of absence or establishes a tone for the future.

You'll find your way; knowing you, it won't be easy. At some point one or both of you is going to apologise.

The battle is done and you lost. Everyone is in shock and has barely begun to comprehend the loss.

Family, friends. You've all lost someone.

You lost him once and had given up all hope of ever getting him back. Whatever happens you consider yourself fortunate for the time you will have with him before life intervenes once again.

Nevertheless, you'll succeed. That's what heroes do, and you owe yourselves that too.


End file.
